It's Nice Out Here
by Amberthepirate
Summary: Steve has difficulty accepting that he's attracted to men and avoids addressing it at every turn but Tony Stark isn't going to stand for this nonsense. SLASH.
1. Chapter 1

Steve would hear things.

He'd hear a group of guys boasting about how they beat up some "skinny ass faggot" and Steve would shrink so far into his seat that he'd be practically under the table. Luckily, they never noticed him; Bucky would give him a worried look though. He was convinced that if the skinheads didn't get him or the police didn't come knocking at his door than he would die of shame. Being Captain America was the ultimate symbol of moral upstanding and _masculinity_.

Steve still had that horrid nightmare. He was all alone on stage, spotlight on him, wearing one of those hideous chorus girl outfits and his face covered in makeup. When he realised how much of a prize looked, Steve tried to shimmy into the wings but he was wolf whistled and pushed back into the light; tripping over his heels. A shadowy hand grabbed his skirt and voices started to chant at him:

"C'mon doll, give us a show!"

"Pretty thing like you –"

"Such a whore, filthy nancy boy."

One of them would get on Stage and pinched Steve's cheek would was wet with tears. "Where do you think you're going baby?"

Then Steve would wake up, gasping, covered in sweat and salt tears leaking from his eyes and staining the bed sheets. "Calm, Rogers Calm" his inner monologue soothes, always in the voice of Peggy or Bucky. "It was just a nightmare. Your still here. "

Still here, still in 21st centaury New York. Where Steve wished he wasn't. He was still homesick, even though it had been over 8 months since they pulled him from the ocean; frozen in time. He scrubbed his face with his hands and wearily looked at the clock on the bedside table:

_6:30_

Ah, well, now was as good a time as any to get up. Steve stretched and got himself ready for the day. He normally went for a run first thing, but today he felt utterly spent, both physically and emotionally so didn't bother. Instead, Steve strolled causally into Stark Towers luxurious but not overly so kitchen to make himself coffee, or get some water, just something. While he was flittering about in the cupboards Steve could detect the sound of footsteps and a sleepy voiced murmured behind him. "Whatcha doin up Capsicle?"

Steve sighed heavily and closed his eyes; Tony Stark, just what he needed. The footsteps got closer and a considerably dishevelled Tony slumped onto the counter next to Steve, yawning and rubbing his eyes. It was almost endearing. "Mornings should be illegal..." Tony slurred, and then stretched his muscular arms to their full length and rolled his head around to make his neck crack. He let his arms hang by his sides and turned to Steve. "You didn't answer my-" he yawned. "my question." Steve couldn't think of a good lie but he didn't want to tell the truth either.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

Steve did not like Tony's tone _at all_, it was far too...fond for his liking and it made Steve's insides do uncomfortable squirmy things and Tony's hazel eyes pierced right though him. Even with his eyelids half closed. Steve backed away and ended up slamming into the fridge; he cursed under his breath and froze when Tony stepped closer.

"It was a nightmare wasn't it? You're really jumpy..."

Steve scowled at him. "Am not." Which honestly didn't work in third grade so wasn't going to work here. Tony rolled his eyes, "You don't want start with me Steve because I will 'are too' you until your sprit breaks." Steve felt the bubbling sensation of a chuckle in his throat but didn't let it out. Tony cautiously stepped even closer, looking up at Steve, their noses less than 10 centimetres away. Steve could see in full detail the wrinkles under Tony's eyes (he worked too hard) the flecks of green, brown and amber in his eyes and his mussed up beard. Steve's breath hitched and he tried to focus on something else his eyes settled on Tony's shoulder. Then Tony reached out and gently patted the super soldier's massive arm, the touch was full of warmth and Steve just wanted to drink it all up.

"C'mon, it can't be that bad. I once had a dream about fury in Speedos." Steve gave Tony a "what the hell" type of look.

"Yes, I know, didn't sleep for weeks and probably need therapy but hey who in this tower doesn't?"

This time, Steve did laugh but it wasn't a full laugh and was hesitant, shy even, but inside tony counted it as a victory. Tony managed to coax Steve away from the fridge and settled him down in a chair with himself perched on the kitchen table. "Tony, tables aren't for sitting on." Steve said, stern but without real conviction. The smaller man grinned a catlike grin and gave Steve's knee a squeeze which made him made a high pitched noise of surprise. "Oh Steven, there are so many good uses for a table." His voice was low and playfully husky. Steve went as red as his boots and couldn't find the words all of a sudden. He was also aware of a red hot pulsating sort of feeling in his lower regions. Oh Jesus Christ almighty. Steve had never ran so fast in his life, leaving Tony blinking in confusion at the empty seat.

Steve choked tears as he got of his "problem" with a cold shower, a luminous pair of hazel eyes imprinted on his brain. A mixture of ecstasy and horror swept over Steve as he turned the water off, his mind working at a mile a minute trying to process what has just happened.

Steve could deal with having unnatural urges but he couldn't deal with Tony Stark.


	2. Chapter 2

The problem with the avengers living in very close proximity to each other is that the very concept of avoiding someone was quite frankly laughable. They ate together, played video games together, and had near apocalyptic arguments over who should pick the movie on movie night together. On top of all this, the others could _sense _when two of their fellow avengers had been arguing and were staying out of each other's way, especially if the two avengers were Tony stark and Steve Rogers in. Steve didn't know why. It was true; he had been sneaking around the tower like some sort of secret agent or a small furry rodent trying to keep contact with the billionaire to a minimum.

He clearly wasn't very good at it, because when he left the living room to grab a soda whilst the rest of the team were chilled out watching The Notebook (Clint had picked that movie) he heard the feminine yet still deadly tones of Natasha behind him whisper/yell to Tony "okay, what did you do this time? Call him a virgin?" Tony made a choked off noise of bereavement and replied "nothing! I swear to Jarvis! I don't know what's got his star spangled panties in a twist." He then grumbled and sank into the couch scowling. Steve felt a rush of blood and heat to his face, ears, and even the bridge of his nose. He should have felt outrage, he should have been offended, but instead he was strangely awash with guilt for letting Tony take the blame. Besides he'd been called worse than "virgin" in his life time anyway. It was easy to let Tony take the blame, because Tony (often without meaning to) had a reputation for rubbing people the wrong way and coming across as a pampas ass. Also 90 per cent of the arguments in this tower involved him in some shape or form. Either he'd blown something up, said the wrong thing, or (Thor sulked for two days because of this) drawing up plans to use a heat ray on a certain ice giant because you never know he might melt.

However, if Steve had anything it would be a secure and wholesome sense of justice (to be honest at the moments its only thing he's secure about.) So he makes a point of turning around and saying to the room "It aint Tony's fault, really I just don't feel so hot." He tries to sound causal, calm, but there's a scratchy edge of nervousness to his voice. Clint twits in his seat. "Are you sick? You're not sick are you?"

Steve felt flattered that Clint was worried about him. "No, nothing like that." Clint lets out a puff of relief "Good, because if you got sick then Stark would be in charge." Steve's face fell a bit. Oh well.

"Ex-cuuuse me? And what's wrong with that bird brain? I could run this team; hell I don't even want to count how many times –"

Steve turned his back to get some orange juice and blocks out the sounds of petulant voices as he thinks. Steve loathes their bickering, but Clint and Tony had touched on an important issue. Who would be in charge if something happened to him? It hadn't crossed his mind; he'd been so preoccupied with just trying to making neither head nor tail of the 21st century to start contemplating a retirement plan. The more he thought about it, the more he discovered that Tony would be his first choice. A few months ago if someone had even suggested that idea he would've listed 101 reasons why that was a stupid idea, stop being stupid. It was weird, you get to know somebody and suddenly all the good in them overshadows the bad; especially in Tony's case. The man had a (metaphorical) heart of gold and had put his everything into his work and would run himself to the ground for it. That took a different kind of strength. It wasn't just that though, Steve felt a strange sensual pull towards the confidence and charm that Tony doled out like boiled sweets, and it compensated for his own self consciousness. However, Steve knew in his gut that these feelings, whatever they were, were as far away from platonic as the Atlantic Ocean is from the Sahara desert. All of a sudden, Tony seemed to materialise behind him and placed a hand on Steve's shoulder that he was neither expecting nor prepared for. Orange juice was spilt all over the floor and as Steve stuttered his apologies some glass cut into his hand.

"AH! Jesus-"

"Now, now, Steven, blasphemy is for sinners."

Steve managed to give Tony through his pain. "Takes one to now one."

Tony raised his eyebrows then slowly brought them back down into an over the top disapproving glare. "Is that sass? Are you sassing me? Stop talking to Jarvis." He took Steve's hand in his own and Steve felt that wonderful heat fill him again. Tony carefully examined the larger mans digits, his eyes glazed over a little with utter concentration. It only ever got like this when he was examining of his robots.

"Hmmpf. Run this under the tap...Cap? Steve? You with me?"

"Oh-oh, yeah, course' I am –sorry I'll just.." Steve obediently scurried over to the tap and washed his hands of blood, it stung, but luckily none of the shards had gotten lodged in. He splashed the chilly water on his face for good measure and shivered as the droplets crept down his neck.

"What's happening back there? We heard a crash, stop wrecking the kitchen and come and watch- it's the rainy scene." Clint sounded distracted and didn't bother to turn his head.

Steve was going to tell Clint how rude that was but Tony dashed by him at jet speed and leaped like a gazelle over the back of the couch and into his seat. Leaving Steve alone with a sore hand in the kitchen.

Steve sighed, and nursed his hand to his chest. It was still warm from Tony's touch.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's notes:** This chapter was difficult to write, I am in no way attacking religion or religious beliefs. I wanted to explore a part of Steve's character that is present in the comics but is often overlooked in the fandom. It made sense to me that Steve would look towards something familiar, something that hasn't changed since he was a boy to look for guidance.

When Steve went on his run the next day he took the scenic route, he found keeping a sense of routine comforting and familiar but he was unwilling to get back to the tower. He was afraid that Tony would be up. Tony worked till ridiculous hours slaving in his workshop but always managed to stumble into the kitchen at exactly 8 o'clock, drink coffee, and make sleepy small talk before disappearing until lunch time, or until he ran out of coffee. He drank far too much of that stuff.

Steve kept a steady pace, not wanting to strain himself and took in the scenery around him. He jogged around central park; the tree's had turned yellow and orange in the autumn weather and the dried fallen leaves rustled under Steve's feat. Nearby, a songbird twittered happily in an oak tree.

Eventually, Steve's running led him into a church yard; and out of respect and a dull throbbing in id legs he stopped for a breather. The place was quiet, apart from the constant noise of traffic from the bustling surrounding city. A priest dressed in traditional black was standing by the large wooden door and was shuffling with some papers, probably leaflets. Steve causally walked over but felt a sense of nervousness; it had been years since he'd talked to a priest.

"Father?" he asked.

The priest turned around, he was an older man with thinning hair but a kind face. He smiled at Steve. "I am Father Gordon young man, and what may I do for you?" he peered at Steve, and narrowed is eyes in judgement. "I do believe I have seen you before."

"I do pass the church while jogging." Steve explained and he extended a hand. "I'm Steve, nice to meet you."

Father Gordon took his hand and shook it firmly. "Please to meet you, now, what is it that you require of me?" he chuckled "I don't get many young people coming to ask for advice."

Steve felt odd being called 'young'; technically he was old enough to be this man's grandfather. He bit his lip and leaned it a little so say directly into Father Gordon's ear. "I've-well, lately I've been experiencing...strange feelings."

Father Gordon gave Steve a questioning look. "What sort of feelings?"

Steve felt heat creeping up his neck and cheeks; he rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes. "I-I don't really-just feelings, unwanted feelings and I was wondering if you could...tell me, or advise me rather, how I would go about...dealing with them." He stuttered out.

Father Gordon's face slowly filled with understanding, he nodded seriously and took Steve by the shoulders, leaflets still in hand. "My son, are you familiar with Matthew 26:41? Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation. The spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak."

Steve blinked as he tried to remember that particular verse; it had been many, many years since he'd even touched a bible let alone read one. It wasn't as if he'd abandoned his faith; it had served as a small light at the end of an otherwise dark tunnel. It had kept him safe from spiraling into madness when the grief of losing his friends, his Peggy, his world, had threatened to consume him.

Of course, it wasn't difficult to believe in one God when you've met two.

"Erm..I'm not sure I am father." Steve replied nervously.

Father Gordon smiled gently back. "What I mean is, is that we have the strength to overcome are vices and we have the strength inside of us to battle and win against evil."

The word 'evil' made Steve's stomach turn on its head, he felt coldness seep from the hand on his shoulder and Steve suddenly didn't feel comfortable around Father Gordon anymore. Instead of getting sound advice, he felt like he was being judged.

"Here, my son, take this." The old priest let go of Steve and handed him one of the leaflets he was carrying, Steve politely thanked him and skimmed the page, the title was written in delicate but bold print face:

Sharing the TRURH in LOVE

IT'S OUR GOAL TO GIVE INDIVIDUALS FREEDOM THROUGH THE POWER OF GOD'S LOVE AND FORGIVNESS-

Steve raised a blonde eyebrow in consideration. Father Gordon patted his arm. "This group has is local, they run a treatment centre not too far away."

Steve's brow furrowed. "A treatment centre? Like…a hospital?" Steve wasn't sure he liked the sound of this, he'd never liked hospitals of any kind and he wasn't…sick, at least not physically.

"More like a rehabilitation centre or a place were lost souls can go to get help, talk about their problems, and receive the proper therapy they need." The old man paused and gave Steve a sympathetic look. "I'm not suggesting that these programs work for everyone, struggling with your sexuality is a very difficult and some people never truly overcome it."

The priest concluded with another smile and looked Steve dead in the eyes; Steve felt himself squirm under the gaze and wanted to turn away. "But, you seem like a smart boy. I have faith that you'll make the right decision."

With that, the old man shuffled his papers once more and retreated with a parting nod of the head. He retreated back in the church and shut the door behind him.

Steve stood there for a moment, blinking, lost, and trying to process what had just occurred. He shook himself, and shoved the leaflet in to his pocket and, perhaps quicker than he intended, fled the Church grounds and carried on with his jog.


	4. Chapter 4

Steve was still a little shell shocked when he eventually arrived back at the tower, he was covered in sweat, and he needed to think. For once, the place was quiet and he was alone. Which was good, he needed some alone time. Panting, Steve went into the kitchen and poured himself a modest glass of milk. He considered drinking from the carton but thought better of it, there were other people living here besides him and it was unhygienic. Steve titled his head back as the milk chugged down his throat.

"_-we have the strength inside of us to battle and win against evil."_

The words of 'wisdom' from father Gordon were stilling reeling through Steve's mind; he must've replayed that conversation over a dozen times since fleeing the church yard. Licking his lips clean of the smooth, cool drink he put the milk carton back into the fridge and cleaned up his glass. Leaving the kitchen top spotless. His fingers drifted self consciously towards the now crumpled leaflet in his jogging pants pocket. They brushed the lining of his pocket then shot up again, as if the fabric was red hot. The paper was, quite literally, burning a hole in Steve's pocket. A shower would be nice. Steve walked down the hall and towards his bedroom, Tony had given him a room with a view; Steve could see the city landscape spiralling on into the distant horizon and the tiny black specs of the people on the sidewalk. Steve considered them, how carefree they seemed, not burdened with the guilt that comes with accidently participating in sin. He shivered, not from cold, but from a sense of wrongness. The shower was welcome, warming liquid soothing his muscles and for a moment, offering comfort. At least in 70 years showers hadn't changed, well, there were a lot more levers and buttons than there used to be but Steve hadn't tried them out yet. It was safer not to anyway.

Steve towel dried himself efficiently and shaking his hair like a wet dog for good measure, sending droplets of water in all directions. He heard a stirring outside in the hall and pauses, listening, it sounded like shuffling footsteps. A hesitant voice calls out "Cap? You back yet" It was Tony. Steve was relived but anxious all at once; he wanted to go to speak to Tony, who was just _outside his bedroom_, calling his _name_ for goodness sakes. Instead he replies, as causal as he can muster "Yeah Tony, be out in moment." He flitters around the room in search of his comb, which is normally on his bedside table but of course it's not there now. Grumbling under his breath he decides that instead of launching a full scale search of the room (seriously where was thing?) Steve uses his hand to clumsily brush his fringe into place and go and look for Tony.

For no reason at all, he picks up the leaflet and stuffs it loosely into his pocket.

He found him in the kitchen, huddled around the coffee machine like a dragon around its hoard of treasure. Steve was amused but also slightly worried that Tony was replacing meals in favour of caffeine. "Hey" Steve said, standing in the door way. Tony made a grunting noise, accepting Steve's presence but not willing to tare his gaze away from the whirling coffee machine. Steve felt a little peeved, it's typical, Tony goes looking for him until he finds something more interesting then ignores him. Steve was also a concerned that he was starting to feel jealously towards a kitchen appliance.

Maybe it was because Tony ever paid attention to things that mattered, or at least things he thought that mattered; the avengers, Loki's whereabouts, his suit ect. As for the other things that were put in the other category, which, much to Steve's annoyance, consisted of sleeping, eating and paperwork.

"What did you want? Earlier I mean." Steve asks. Tony doesn't turn his head and shrugs his shoulders "just checking if you were back yet, you were gone longer than normal." Steve felt warmed that Tony was worried when he was back on time, especially since when he's down in the lab time seems to fly by without him even noticing. The coffee machine pings and Tony grabs a red cup, then pauses, grabs another and turns to face Steve who's still trying to lean nonchalantly on the door frame.

"Want one?" Tony asks.

Before Steve can think he answers "yes please" although he sounds shy, like a kid asking for candy. Tony pours the warm liquid into the cups and passes Steve's in such a way that Steve won't burn his fingers when he takes it. Steve smiles and thanks Tony before grabbing his drink and taking a sip.

Tony chuckles from behind his own coffee. "Did you drag yourself through many bushes on your run?"

Steve blushes and self tries to pat down his wild hair.

"Didn't have hair brushes in the forties?" Tony quips, waiting for Steve to respond.

"At least I know how to a razor." Steve replies; satisfied when Tony sulks, and scratches his beard.

"Hey, this is a million dollar goatee here Capsicle!"

Steve grinned and took another sip of his coffee; it was good, Tony knows how to make it. They made idle chit chat, it was fairly relaxed and Tony sat crossed legged on the counter while they talked. It was almost enduring. Steve felt human in these moments, he's not Captain America and nobody is expecting him to save the world or smile for the camera. He enjoyed talking to Tony, the man was surprising patient and very funny at times he also _listened_ to Steve and didn't judge. Steve used to have another friend like that, a long time ago. His watch suddenly beeped cutting Tony off in midsentence and Steve gave an apologetic look before checking it.

"Oh" he said, realising the time. "I have a meeting with Director Fury and Agent Coulson."

Tony snorted. "Furious Nick and your fan boy? Hard luck Cap." He took an almightily swig from his cup, draining the contents.

Steve rolled his eyes. "Looks like it shell head" he replied, enjoying the look on Tony's face. "I'll be back in a few hours...so..umm." Steve shuffled awkwardly "Rain check?" he ventured.

Tony grinned. "Sure, sure, now, go before I get the blame for you being late."

Steve turned to go quickly, a piece of paper fluttered from his left pocket and landed with a very soft thumb on the hard cold tiles. Tony eyed it, and nearly called out to Steve but the super soldier had already gone. Oh well. Scooting off the kitchen top, he scooped the leaflet up with one hand and gingerly opened it up. Smoothing the creases away and reading.

Tony's expression shifted from curious, to confused, and then to pale horror and lastly an overwhelming feeling of understanding and guilt.

"Oh...Oh Steve."


	5. Chapter 5

In the gym, Steve pounded an exhausted punching bag. Nearby, the pitiful remains of two others lay discarded, leaking sand onto the floor.

Steve's body had settled into a rhythm, punch, punch, left, right.

His mind wasn't controlling his movement so he was free to think, there was only one thing on the agenda; Tony. Steve's anger had boiled down to a Luke warm annoyance but he still couldn't wrap his head around his friend's outburst. Tony had a flair for dramatics, but what happened earlier wasn't their usual type of quarrel. For some reason, Tony had been furious and he'd wanted to yell at Steve, all over a silly little leaflet. Steve huffed, Tony just didn't get it, he was a clever guy but this was something that even the great Tony Stark couldn't understand. Steve hoped for their friendship's sake that he'd never have to explain it to him. Ever.

Steve slowed when he heard quick footsteps approaching, and eventually the sound of a door opening. Someone whistled, Steve sighed and stopped punching. He turned to face, who else, but Tony who apparently was done sulking.

"Came to see if you booked that appointment"

Steve raised an eyebrow, "what appointment?" He asked.

Tony tapped his temple with his finger. "You know, the one to get your brain looked at."  
Steve set his jaw and removed the tape from his knuckles; he turned his back on Tony and walked in the opposite direction. Tony was fast on his feet and trotted after Steve and got in front of him with his hands in the air. A sign of surrender. "Hey, hey, hey, joking! See this face? means I'm joking!"

Steve crossed his arms. "I don't know if I like your jokes Tony."

Tony stuck his chin in the air. "And I don't know if I like your life choices Cap. Let's agree to disagree." His eyes softened. "We should talk, I mean, really talk."

"I thought we just did." Steve replied bitterly. He regretted it when he saw the hurt creep into Tony's face. "Don't so that." He murmured.

"Do what?" Steve asked quietly.

"Pretend like you don't know me." Tony's voice was verging on sadness, but his face was turned away from Steve to a fascinating spot on the wall.

Steve bit his bit and his body language shifted from defensive to relaxed.

"I came down here to, err, you know that thing that people do when their sorry and wanna make up." Tony gestured in the air with his hands, waiting for Steve to finish his chain of thought.  
"Apologize?" Steve offered, dripping with sarcasm.

Tony nodded. "Yeah, that. I, I'm sorry for yelling at you? Okay, now can we-" Tony pointed to the door from over his shoulder with his thumb.

Steve raised both eyebrows, wanting to give a witty slash sarcastic response; but when he saw the worried, and haunted essence in Tony 's usually bright, intelligent eyes, something compelled Steve to nod and follow Tony away.

Tony was like a guide dog, silently leading Steve up the stairs and down various hallways. He didn't check to see if Steve was following him, just trusted him to do so. Because whatever this was, Tony was certain he was in the right and Steve should think so too. After what seemed like many miles of walking,

Tony stopped outside an unassuming wooden door. Dotted down the hall were many doors like it.

"Nobody should disturb us." Tony mumbled, trying the shiny brass knob.

Steve felt a familiar red hotness rise to his face, and then he inwardly slapped himself for thinking such things. He remembered hid recurring nightmare, the scolding stage lights, the chorus girl outfit and the chanting.

Tony herded him briskly inside and closed the door behind him. They were in one of the unused bedrooms, it was stylish as and sleek but a bit two modern for Steve's taste. These other man sat on the bed and patted an empty spot for Steve to sit on, Steve did, the bed dipped with their combined weight.

Tony didn't waste time. "Look, I'm not gonna sit here and act like I know how you feel, because I don't. You're a grown man who can do as he damn well pleases. But you're making as big mistake Capsicle. Very big."

"Yeah?"

"Yep. I don't know if you keep up with the headlines but -umm, _queers_ aren't witch hunted anyone."

He was clearing using vocab that Steve was familiar with but it doesn't make this conversation any less uncomfortable. Steve wanted to flee, to leave the room, because he didn't want Tony to hate him, to be disgusted with him.

"It's not even illegal, if anything people are accepting and nobody cares, honestly, and homosexuals – that's the fancy word for gays, lead normal lives just like any other minority group and have you heard their music? Because it's really something."

Steve feels like he's being sold something, and he narrows his eyes at Tony. "Nobody cares?" he echoed and his friend fidgeted a little but brightened at the fact that Steve was opening up.

"Well, most don't, of course there are those opinionated, inbred, psycho christens who think anyone who isn't straight, white, middle class and male is going to hell..so that excludes pretty much the entire population, including myself, but I digress."

Steve sets his jaw. "It's not a crime to have religious values and beliefs Tony." He said, trying to keep a casual tone of voice.

Tony met his eyes directly, hazel clashed head-on with blue. "Shoving it down people's throats and tormenting people who've dared to be different on the other hand..."

Steve wasn't ready for this conversation. He'd know that as soon as Tony had opened his mouth and he just didn't want to end up having the argument which was apparently inevitable.

"It's not that simple, freedom of speech-"

"Oh don't start Spangles, this isn't about the flag, or the national anthem, or apple pie, hell this isn't even about Captain America, this is about _you_. Steve Rogers. A human being who is clearly struggling with something that is far too big for him to handle."

Okay. That's enough.

Steve got to his feet and the panic in Tony's face was clear, he looked like he was afraid that Steve was going to hit him or run away. He did neither, and instead met halfway and glared at Tony before marching to the window. "I am handling it." He stated, firmly, but not harshly, however much on the inside he was failing to believe his own words.

For a long while the room was silent. An oppressive, heavy sort of quiet fell over the two men and it smacked of things left unsaid and strange foreign motions. Steve thought he heard Tony say "no...I don't think you are." But it was so quiet, so fleeting that he could've imagined it. There was a bitter, hollow laugh from behind him and Steve turned his head to see Tony grinning with all the charm and affection of a dead eyed marionette.

"You know what? It's really none of my business anyways –therapist isn't in my title cap and for the good of all of us it shouldn't ever be there, I should sort out my own problems first right?" He chuckled. "you gonna go to those meetings?"

Steve blinked. "How can I? You screwed up the thing..."

Tony waved a hand in the air. "No worries, I'm sure if you jog around to the church again that priest will give you another one. Hell, he might even let you hand them out to people since you're so keen."

"Tony..."

"Gotta split Cap, you know how it is. Robots to build, coffee to drink, sins to commit, sooooo bye."

Tony turned on his heel and was out the door before Steve could catch him, or make any other objection.

_Please, don't go, I'm lost. I don't know what to do. _


End file.
